


a roller coaster we’re gonna make the most of

by aceofdiamonds



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5173529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofdiamonds/pseuds/aceofdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where rory says yes to logan but she also says yes to the campaign job and her and logan make it work</p>
            </blockquote>





	a roller coaster we’re gonna make the most of

**Author's Note:**

> i finished gilmore girls last week and i can't believe the lack of rory/logan on here. i loved the ending, i did, with rory going off on her own but i also loved logan and i wanted both things for her. i would like to thank the west wing for providing me with some very basic knowledge of the us campaign journey which actually doesn't come into this much at all. title is from you know me by air traffic controller.

 

 

 

you tell logan yes but also _also_ you take the job on the campaign trail. you've read enough feminist literature to know that you can have a long engagement and follow your dreams as far as you can.

“we’ll be pros at this long distance thing when we’re done, rory,” logan says, that tiny crease appearing in his forehead as he frowns, but then he looks at the ring on your finger and remembers what it means and he beams, picking you up and spinning you around.

“i love you,” you tell him, thinking of that cliche about absence making the heart grow fonder because you haven't even left yet and you can't imagine loving him anymore than you do now.

it's graduation day. you're allowed to be soppy and emotional. it's kind of the whole point.

  


.

  


you're a yale graduate, a reporter for barack obama’s campaign, and a fiancee. you're pretty happy with this hand you've been dealt.

  


.

  


none of these are things your mother can relate to but you're your mother’s daughter and you know she's proud of you which is all you want when it comes down to it.

  


.

  


logan comes to your going away party that luke pulled out of his hat in the final moment. everyone is here to wish you well, and _oh_ , you’re going to miss this place so much.

“i can’t see taylor,” logan says, turning his head from side to side.

“with taylor it’s usually a case of you hear him before you see him,” you tell him, loving experiencing this outsider’s perspective of your little town.

logan cranes his neck and then he grins, hand tightening around yours. "here he comes. oh man, is that a megaphone?"

"probably," you say, and it's now that it hits you that you're really leaving, that stars hollow and taylor and kirk and lane and your _mom_ , all of their lives are going to continue while you're gone. you selfishly want everything to halt while you take on the world. you've left before, for europe, for yale, but this time it's more permanent and so that ache in your chest is so much more.

"hey, ace," logan murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i can feel your freak out from all the way over here," and you feel him warm against your back. 

"it's stupid," you say, keeping your eyes on taylor and kirk attempting to set up the mic to a height that suits both of them. 

"it's not stupid. i've never lived in a place like this. i mean, sure, everyone's insane, but everyone's been here for forever, right? it's gonna hurt when someone leaves for a while." 

"san francisco is a long way away," you say, tears suddenly embarrassingly in your eyes. "2,980 miles."

logan laughs. "you googled it? oh, ace, i love you so much, do you know that?" 

lorelai comes over then, a little emotional herself but a wide smile on her face when she hugs you close, grabbing you every second she can now that your hours are numbered. "i think this feeds into our self-esteem nicely, eh?"

"i feel very important," you agree. 

"i'm glad you came, logan," she says then. "i haven't had a proper chance to offer you congratulations -- you disappeared so quickly after graduation."

"yeah, sorry about that, work needed me," logan gestures helplessly but then he catches the soft look on lorelai's face that tells you he's almost there, he's almost right into her inner circle,  and that's more of a going away present than you could have asked for. "and thanks, lorelai, it means a lot."

"hey, kid, you're gonna be family, that means friday night dinners whenever you're this side of the country," and then your mom cackles and leaves again, on the hunt for sookie. 

"that sounded a lot like approval," you say happily, leaning up and kissing logan on the cheek. 

"and an added bonus of friday night dinner," logan agrees before something catches his eye over his shoulder. "wait, shh, ace, taylor's taking the stage."

 

 

.

  


“i’m gonna miss you, kid,” your mom says at airport security.

“i’ll phone every night,” you promise, clutching your heart with both your hands and swooning because you both know if you try and be too serious now you’ll break and that’ll be it. “wait by the phone for my call.”

“i’ll glue the phone to my ear,” she says, and then she’s smiling, a little watery, but a smile. “go make the world yours.”

“i’ll try,” you promise, and when you hug her you hold on tight for so long you both have time to discreetly wipe your eyes on each other’s shoulder.

  


.

  


you always call logan from the bus as soon as you've hung up on lorelai, both of you giddy about your futures and sad at the prospect of being so far apart for so long. logan’s voice is the comfort it always has been, that warm funny tone in your ear enough to settle your stomach and allow you to climb onto the excitement of your situation.

“have you seen barack yet?” he asks, chewing on his cereal right in your ear in the obnoxiously loud way you love to hate.

“that's mr obama to you and me,” you scold him. “and that's going to be president obama soon enough.” you've heard him speak a few times now, the senator, and you might be biased but you know this is the man the country needs.

logan laughs quietly. “i don't doubt it with you on his team, ace,” he says and he's always been so supportive of you that it really helps when you're on this loud, busy, bus with people years and years ahead of you in experience and courage.

“how's san francisco?” you ask as you always do, and you think about how you can call that place your home in an abstract sort of way even though you've never been. he's promised you avacado trees and the chronicle and long days of relaxing in the hot californian air. right now you're both working long long hours and you've got a long way to go before you'll be ready to fly out there and join him but you love thinking about it.

“hot,” he says, and he sighs, breathy and happy. “i’m eating guacamole every night.”

“don't tease me,” you whine, playing along.

“and yesterday i saw hillary clinton in chinatown.”

“what would hillary clinton be doing in chinatown in the middle of her campaign?”

“i dunno, ace, you tell me, but seriously, i saw her.”

“and i bet you didn't even get a photo,” you say, laughing when he says he took one with his mind.

with dean everything had been new and sweet but he had never been on your wavelength, even at the start. with jess it had been exciting to the point of making you sick. and you and logan have had your problems, sure, and you’re young still, but you think you’re doing alright with him. he’s somewhere close to your wavelength which is the closest you’re ever going to get and your mum doesn’t love him yet but if he sticks around you’re sure she’ll get around to it.

  


.

  


it’s fascinating tracking the progress of obama across the country, his easy smile and deep voice picking up promised votes everywhere he goes. you follow along three steps behind, pen and recorder ready for the next headline that is going to have people flocking to the voting stations come november. this is the best place you could possibly be.

  


.

  


you text logan late at night when the rocking of the bus is too much and you can’t sleep. the phone flashes bright with him asking how you feel and then what you’re wearing. you remember when paris had told you about this and you had read books on what to say, blushing the whole time. you’re still not totally comfortable typing these sorts of things when there are people all around you but it’s dark and you’re lonely and when logan texts you back you giggle into the soft fabric of your seat and miss him.

  


.

  


“is that luke i can hear?”

lorelai shushes you. “shh. he’s making me breakfast.”

“in the kitchen?”

“in the kitchen.”

“naked?”

“not this time, no,” she says and you groan but you’re thrilled luke is there with your mom making her happy when you’re miles across the country.

  


.

  


it’s hard, this job. you knew it would be. this is the real world, you know that. but the hours are long and the workload is always towering above you and people are lovely but you miss your stars hollow people.

on the way to ohio, six weeks in, you pinch yourself on the underside of your arm to remind yourself this is the opportunity of a lifetime and you’re not going to waste it away complaining.

  


.

  


lane sends you emails whenever she finds the time between calling zach on the road and juggling two babies, her mom, and brian. she slips in little in-jokes you’ve had since you were eight and she updates you on life in stars hollow where luke and taylor are fighting every second week and luke and lorelai are so loved up miss patty can’t stop singing love songs whenever she sees them, and kirk. well, he’s kirk.

“i’ve been reading your articles,” she ends every email with and when you ask her for her thoughts she tells you she finds them fascinating, the babies love them too, but mrs kim isn’t too fond of obama and so she deletes her internet history afterwards every time.

“do they sound professional enough, do you think?” because you’re confident in your writing, you always have been and look at the heights it’s got you, but there’s still that fizz of fear in your stomach whenever you submit a new article. sure the website has barely any traffic at all but there’s some and this is serious stuff here, you don’t want to sound like a kid on a college newspaper.

“i feel smarter just reading the titles,” lane says, which, as she’s always been so good at, is the right thing to say.

  


.

  


as summer draws to a close the campaign slows to match, the darkening nights dedicated to poll stats and reflections and speeches in chilly halls.

“i believe we've met before, miss gilmore,” the senator says during a rainy pit stop in oregon where the campaign staff and reporters are mingling in a town hall out of the rain.

“yes, sir, my junior year of college.”

“we've both come a long way since then,” obama says then with the laugh that your mom says is going to win him the whole east coast. “i’m glad you've joined us on our trip, rory.”

“honoured to be here, sir,” you tell him, a little breathless and then as soon as he turns away you get out your phone and text half your contacts telling them you just had a conversation with the next president.

it's a hard job, you still think that, but it's exhilarating and exciting and you can't wait for more and more.

  


.

  


“will i see you for christmas?” logan asks when you promise lorelai you’ll go home for thanksgiving. he’s not bitter or angry, he just wants to know whether to get you a plane ticket or not.

“christmas in california?” you reply, tilting your head in consideration, phone trapped against your shoulder as you put the finishing touches on obama's roaring success in north dakota. “well, we can’t have london every year.”

“london’s not out of the question,” logan offers.

but you voice your disagreement. “no. i want to see san francisco.”

“i’ll get your ticket now,” he says, and you can tell he’s doing that smile that you love where he forgets himself for a second and just lets himself go.

  


.

  


the campaign pauses for christmas and everyone scatters across the country. on december 22nd you board a plane in snowy minnesota and land in a marginally warmer california, blinking warily in the sunshine you’re not accustomed to at this time of year.

you crawl into a cab, the last few months catching up on you as you struggle to stay awake on the way to the address logan sent you last week when he thought you were coming on the 23rd.

hey, he surprised you enough times in your senior year when he flew back from london with no warning. it’s your turn.

your heart flips and twists and cartwheels right up your throat as the cab approaches the building which is stupid because this is logan, your fiancé, which by the way is still kinda weird and wonderful to say, and you’ve been apart for longer than this before and here you are acting like a navy wife who hasn’t seen her husband in years.

“good luck, doll,” the driver calls to you as you pass him the fare.

you mumble your thanks and then you’re out of the car and into the lift and then you’re standing outside the door that is going to be half yours soon.

logan answers on the third knock and man do you wish you’d brought a camera to catch the look on his face. “rory! i wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“i can do surprises too,” you say, and then you find yourself rambling on about maybe getting here when he was at work and maybe he’s too busy now and anyway, you can always find a hotel for the night if he needs peace and quiet to work and --

“ace,” he says gently, reaching out and taking your bag before leading you inside. “i couldn’t give a fuck about work right now,” which is pretty much the line you were holding out for.

you grin and then you tilt your head up and kiss him, sighing when his hands slip to your waist and pick you up to pull you against him. merry christmas to you.

  


.

  


it's not a future so up-in-the-air as you had once thought but it's not set in stone yet either. you've always been happy being somewhere in the middle.

  



End file.
